


A Simple Gesture

by DaydreamingofDragons



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Public Display of Affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 18:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6295243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaydreamingofDragons/pseuds/DaydreamingofDragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dorian attempts to push his own boundaries and doesn't succeed as well as he would like</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Simple Gesture

**Author's Note:**

> Repost of my KM fill for the prompt:
> 
> "Dorian has done a lot of kinky things in his time, and yet somehow holding Bull's hand in public feels like the most outrageous thing he's ever done."
> 
> So if you think you've read it before, you may well have.

It is such a simple thing, for everyone else.  
  
Certainly, Sera has no shame in touching her lover however and wherever she pleases. Kisses in Skyhold’s courtyard. Sitting in her lap in the tavern. Hugs that bear a striking resemblance to tackles after a fight. Holding hands by the docks in Redcliffe. Sera offers every gesture with thoughtless affection and Adaar receives them all easily, joyfully.  
  
Dorian is absolutely not jealous of his two closest friends.  
  
It’s worse, somehow, when what he wants isn’t even out of reach. Very much within reach, in fact. All seven foot of the Bull, less than an arm's length away. All Dorian has to do is reach out and touch.  
  
Well, the pathetic truth: he cannot. He has been trying for the last hour, as Sera drags Adaar from stall to stall through Redcliffe. It should be a simple thing; reach out and take the Bull’s hand. All Dorian’s efforts have got him are a dry mouth, sweaty palms and a keen sense of paranoia.  
  
He checks over his shoulder again, though he is doing nothing more scandalous than standing next to the Bull. No-one seems to be watching them but, instead of reassuring him, the knowledge that he is working himself up over nothing makes him feel worse. _Pathetic_. He has done things to the Bull that would turn a Chantry mother’s hair white. Has begged the Bull to do such things to him in return. A simple touch of his hand in public should not feel more shameful than that.  
  
In retrospect, trying to push his boundaries in Redcliffe was a horrible idea. The spectre of his father is too present, issuing apologies that still leave Dorian feeling at fault. It isn’t Halward, specifically, that he looks over his shoulder for. It’s just hard to shake the memory of not being spoken to for a fortnight after letting his hand linger a little too long against some other gentleman’s at a dinner party.  
  
“Hey,” the Bull’s shoulder knocks against his gently. “You okay?”  
  
“Fine,” Dorian replies on reflex, knowing the Bull is unlikely to believe him but won’t force the issue. Sometimes, a small part of Dorian wishes he were less damnedly considerate. That he would take the step Dorian finds so difficult and take the choice out of his hands. Most of the time, he is unspeakably grateful for the Bull’s patience.  
  
Dorian makes himself look up and meet the Bull’s eye. “Really,” he promises with a smile that grows more genuine as the concern on the Bull’s face warms him.  
  
Looking at the Bull makes it easier to block out everything else. To sidle a step closer, reach down and run light fingers over the Bull’s hand and give it a quick squeeze. His courage fails before he can bring himself to link their fingers together, but the Bull still smiles at him as if Dorian has done something special. As if the Bull is _proud_ of him.  
  
He manages to stay close to the Bull’s side for all of five minutes, until an especially raucous fishing crew heading down to their boat startles him into jerking away, heart beating too fast. The men pay them not the slightest bit of attention and Dorian curses himself foully.  
  
The Bull only smiles at him, sympathetic now, and tosses his head to indicate that Adaar and Sera have already moved on. Dorian follows after them, squaring his shoulders and promising himself he will do better next time. Perhaps tonight, when he sits by the Bull at their campfire.


End file.
